The Hunt
by TookMeASecond
Summary: The Winchesters are used to hunting monsters. They know the web of hunters around them. What happens when they meet one they don't know? Rated M for language.
1. Chapter 1

The gravel scattered across the road less traveled crunched under the tires of the Impala as the car rolled to a stop. The warehouse looked to be abandoned for years. Bottles and various trash scattered haphazardly around the unkept grounds. The cloudless sky allowed the full moon to illuminate the building in an ominous glow. The only thing out of place in this wasteland was a big, newish truck.

"Why is it that when someone meets a violent death local kids want to 'brave' the crime scene?" He even used quotations. He wiped a strand of brown hair from his eyes and surveyed the building.

"Asshats," was the only reply the other man had. They both shook their heads and exited the vehicle. Each man circled their side of the car and met at the trunk. Dean opened it. Sam lifted the lid on the secret compartment. Dean propped it with a shotgun and they loaded up.

"So, you're sure the lone wolf is here," Dean asked, gripping the shotgun, as they headed to the front of the car. Sam was the research man. And as long as he was sure, Dean was sure.

"Only place it could be." Sam's reply was confident, and Dean smiled and cocked his head as they stopped at the front of the car. "Let's kick some ass," he said cocking the gun and passing a glance at his brother. Sam nodded and moved toward the building instep with the older man.

Just then glass shattered and they watched as a figure flew from the second story window, as if doing a cannonball into the adjacent marsh. The figure sprawled, mid air, and spun. Just as its hands went up in front of it another figure followed, arms wide, gaping mouth. Then two gunshots rang out, the second figure flailed and went limp. The first figure hit the brackish water moments before the second. Then all was quiet.

Both boys eyebrows knitted together and their mouths hung open silently. They glanced at each other.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked dubiously. Sam hitched his step and jogged to the bank of the wetland, Dean close on his heels. They came through the brush just in time to see someone walking out of the water, guns still up.

"I figured there was just one wolf. I can take two more." It was an unfamiliar voice. Sam held up his hands in a gesture to mean no harm. He noted the armor on her shins and forearms.

"We're not wolves, Laura Croft, we're hunters. And you stole my kill," Dean's voice was agitated. Sam glanced at him, trying to get his attention. His brother noticed, but didn't look.

"Anyone can say they are hunters. How do I know for sure?" Her voice was smooth and calm. A confidence in it you only got from being good at what you do.

Sam held up his gun and opened his jacket. Dean threw his hands up in exasperation at his brothers willingness to show his hand. "What the hell, Sam!" She looked over Sam's gear, the moon providing more than enough light. She nodded, someone only armed themselves like that if they fought monsters.

"C'mon Dean, she's obviously a hunter. We're on the same side." Dean huffed again. Then waved his shotgun in front of him, earning a smirk from the new girl. Then then pulled back both flaps of his jacket and spun in a circle.

"Cute dance," she said lowering her weapons. She straightened her posture. "Sorry about your kill. Early bird and what not." She shrugged a shoulder and sauntered past them, her watery boots squishing with each step. Her black clothing would have clung to her if she were dry. She wasn't thin, but her curvy figure was clear in her attire.

Dean scoffed, his mouth hanging open, Sam gave him a look, asking for him to keep his cool, then turned to follow her. "So, you're a hunter?" He asked. It wasn't every case they ran into anyone else. And a woman no less.

"Not really," she replied, not turning to look at him. Dean had fallen instep with Sam, and rolled his eyes.

"Uh, ok," Sam stuttered, "Who are you?" He was a little put off by her nonchalant attitude and her mysterious demeanor.

She pulled down the tailgate on the truck and stepped into the bed, sitting down to take off her boots. "Laura," she said looking at Sam, then her gaze fell on Dean, "Laura Croft." Sam closed his eyes.

"Alright, lady, listen. I am not sure what's going on here, I mean you clearly know what you're doing. That window thing? Insane. But enough with all the cryptic bull shit. We know every hunter in the area, who are you?" Dean had his legs spread, his chest out and his hands on his hips. Sam could only think of a posturing gorilla.

"I'm just passing through," she said standing. Then she turned to the tool box bolted to the bed of the truck and opened the lid with a key from around her neck. Dean made a face at Sam he had never seen before. A mix of anger and confusion. They turned back to the girl to find her topless and pulling off her sopping pants.

"Oh, uh. Alright, sorry," Sam covered his face and turned his back. Dean dropped his jaw, furrowing his eyebrows. "Sam!" He yelled gesturing to the now naked woman. She pulled out dry clothes, dressed, and closed the lid. She left the wet things to tend to later and jumped out of the bed, closing the door.

"It's been fun boys. I'll be at the dive in town, I need to blow off some steam. Buy you a drink later? To show no hard feelings." Then she went to her driver door, got in, and revved it up. The boys, were literally, left in her dust. As the dust settled Dean turned to his brother.

"What the fuck was that, Sam?" Sam already knew it was rhetorical. Dean didn't know what to say. Of all the crazy, strange, scary things they'd seen this one had him speechless. Sam couldn't stop the corners of his mouth from twitching, he started back to the car. Dean followed, no giddy up in his step.

"I guess you're just 'dust in the wind', Dean."

Dean lunged for Sam, "shut the fuck up Sammy." But Sam dodged and moved out of reach. Dean grumbled the entire time they'd packed their things, and most of the ride back to the hotel.

Dean walked into the third bar this evening. It was an hour till close, and he and Sam hadn't found her yet. Then there she was at the bar, alone. Dean waited at the door for Sam. And he told himself it wasn't because she intimidated him. Sam followed not long after and Dean pointed her out. They picked a table near the pool table, and watched.

A waitress come by with a couple shots, and set them down. "Hey, Doll, we haven't ordered yet," Dean grinned up at the blonde. She smiled back, tucking some hair behind her ear.

"From the woman at the bar," she drawled. "Can I get you anything else?" Both men jerked to look at the bar. She held up her own shot, downed it then got up and went into the bathroom.

"Uh, beer," Sam said when Dean just stared at the shot. She nodded and left. Dean looked up at Sam, and shrugged, downing the shot and watching the door. Sam slid his to Dean.

"When she comes out we go talk to her," Dean said downing the other shot. Sam shook his head.

"Why Dean? She seems to be doing fine. She's not interested in talking, let's just drop it." The blonde was back with two bottles of beer. She lingered for a moment then, when she got no attention from Dean, wandered off.

"No, we are not going to drop this, Sam," Dean exaggerated his brothers name. "Who does that, that, window thing? Hunters talk, Sam, why have we never heard of her?" Sam shrugged. "You're so helpful," Dean muttered, sipping his beer. He was still watching the door.

"Okay, do you think someone who could do that window thing would still be in the bathroom?" Dean's blank face froze on Sam, and he jumped from the table and hustled to the ladies room, finding it empty.

"Damn!"

The older man sighed and scratched at the hair on his chin. He shuffled through some papers, pulling one from the middle to place on top, then set the stack down. He leaned back in his chair with a huff and covered his face with his hands. Any second his phone would-

Then the phone was buzzing.

"'Ello," he said sitting up straighter. The voice on the other end didn't seem as tired as it was the last time he'd heard it.

"Hey, Bobby, got anything good?" Sam's voice was calm and strong. It lifted Bobby's heart a little. He had been running himself ragged to track this case for the boys.

"Not much more than last week. I got a few sightings, no one seems to know her name or where she came from. And when you saw her, a couple months ago, was the last time she was seen," he checked his papers as he spoke, to be sure about the information.

"Do the sightings have dates and locations?"

"Of courses, Sam, what kind of half assed information post you think I'm running here?" Sam paused, not sure what to say. He heard Bobby let out a tired sigh. "Sorry, boy. There's a lot going on."

Sam shook his head, then realized Bobby couldn't see. "It's no problem," he said, "get it to me whenever." Bobby agreed and they hung up. Just as Sam put the phone down Dean joined him at the little table in the diner. Sam had a cup of coffee waiting for him. He wrapped his fingers around the hot mug and leaned in to inhale the steam coming off the brew. He closed his eyes and groaned deeply.

"Yeah, ok. Bobby is gonna send me stuff on when and where she's been spotted, but he says it's not much. Dean nodded, sipping his brew.

"I am so over this little bitch," he sighed into his cup. Hangovers were beginning to be more trouble than they were worth.

"I'm not sure why you let her get to you. She seems harmless, to people at least," Sam was more interested in getting back to the job, full time.

They ate their breakfast slowly as Sam checked the news. His computer dinged, indicating an email. His attention stayed on his omelette as he moved to the email. He scanned over half before he decided he needed to pull up a map. He had one on the screen in seconds, went back to the top of the email, and started pinning every location and date she was seen.

Sam took the last bite of his breakfast as he pinned the last location. Then he sat back sipping his coffee and staring at the screen. Dean was finishing his pie, motioning at the waitress to his empty coffee cup. Sam squinted at the little red dots. He could feel something in the data, just couldn't get it yet.

"Are we going to sit here all day? Know where she is yet?" Dean's impatience startled Sam out of his thoughts, but it was nothing new. Sam closed his computer and scooched out of his side of the booth. Dean clasped his hands and followed, a wicked smile on his face.

Dean sped down the road, windows down and Kansas bound. Sam was filing through emails and typing quickly on his keypad. His fingers suddenly came to a stop and he stared, hard. He swiped a hand through his hair and sighed, looking at his brother.

"Dean, we need to stop," he kept his eyes locked on the driver, trying to convey importance. Dean glanced back, his smile sinking at the intensity of Sam's gaze.

"What's up, Sammy?" He asked turning down the music. Sam motioned to the computer. "I need to show you this." Dean pulled the car to the shoulder and reached for the computer, Sam jerked it back and turned it toward him. Dean tilted his head and shot Sam a look, but didn't argue.

"This is where she's been seen. We have to assume she just hasn't been seen anywhere else, there's no way she's that good with little practice," Sam motioned to the dots scattered all over the US map. Dean nodded.

"Ok, I can see that. What's so big about these points?"

Sam looked at him for a second, his eyebrows down. "Dean, do you notice anything about these places? These dates?" Dean squinted, and slowly shook his head.

"Ok," Sam sighed, "this one, Mobile in January. We were there 2 weeks before. The next one, Savannah in March, we were there 10 days before. This other one, we were supposed to take that job, but passed it to Rufus."

Dean stared at the screen for a bit longer. "What the fuck, Sam! She's stalking us? This is un-fucking-believable!" He stormed out of the car, continuing his ramble, kicking dust and pointing at Sam. Sam pulled his phone out to call Bobby.

"Nothing new, Sam."

"Yeah? I got something. Did you notice anything strange about the dates on her sightings?"

"Something bothers me about 'em, but I couldn't put my finger on it." Sam could just see him sitting up in his chair. He glanced out the windshield at Dean, still pitching a fit.

"She's following us, Bobby."


	2. Chapter 2

**I am so, so sorry it took me so long to update. A few days after posting the first chapter we were out of town for a week, staying with family. With no internet or phone service. Kinda nice. ANYWHO! Just been a little busy, so here's the next. I'm working on the third. Also, Dean seems a little out of character right now, but he'll settle down, I promise. Thanks for reading!**

"So, you think she's following you? For what?" The boys had high tailed it to Bobby's for an in person pow wow. Dean had blared angry rock music the entire way there and Sam was glad for some conversation.

"That I still have no clue about. It'll be hard to figure out, too, if we don't know her name or what she wants. I figured if she wanted us dead she'd have done it when we saw her. Or even in the past few weeks since." Sam, the rational one. Always looking for answers and trying to maintain his cool.

"Who cares? There is nothing good can come from this. She's not a groupie, she doesn't want an autograph. This whole thing reeks, and we should have put an end to it that night." Sometimes Sam admired his brothers passion. Sometimes he wanted to tell Dean to stuff it.

"You mean when she lowered her weapons and got naked in front of you? Is that when you should have killed her?" Instead of answering Dean got a thousand mile stare while he drifted into that memory. Sam shook his head.

The three of them talked for hours, going in circles. Dean announced it was the last beer, as he grabbed the last beer. Bobby rolled his eyes, "Guess I better go for more. You boys sit tight, we'll figure this all out."

Upon exiting his front door Bobby scanned the junk yard. He grinned as he got into his car and headed through the gate toward town.

The boys sat in the library, Dean nursing his beer, Sam looking over the large map they had pinned to the wall to keep track of her. She hadn't been seen since they saw her. Three weeks was the longest span of time. Where had she gone? Dean slouched into a chair as Sam leaned one hand on the map, the other rubbing his face.

Then the lights went out.

Both men froze, their senses quickly reaching high alert. There wasn't a sound. Their eyes met, illuminated by the lights in the salvage yard.

 _Only the house._

Each knew the others thought as if it were his own. Sam lowered himself out of sight and scuttled behind Bobby's desk, grabbing his gun from a drawer. Dean slid off the couch to his knees, pulling his own weapon from the small of his back.

With a tip of his head and twitch of his hand Dean gave directions and the boys set out to scope the house. Dean lead, crouched low, back straight, elbows lose. Sam was upright, taking up the rear.

Dean entered the kitchen and begun to clear the room when Sam, who had been covering him, flew in the doorway. He crashed into the table, hit the floor and didn't move. Dean was up in a flash, gun to the door, stepping between it and Sam.

"Sam! Sammy, you awake?" There was no reply, no movement. Dean couldn't see anything past the doorway, he backed toward his brother and kneeled down to check for a pulse. Relieved to fine one he straightened again and headed toward the dark doorway.

"Come out, you bitch! I know it's you," his voice was hard. This had already gone way too far and he planned to finish it. His ears strained for a sound, a clue. The silence in the room was deafening. He slowly kept past the couch, his eyes scanning the nearly impossible darkness.

Then his chest hit the floor with a weight on his back, his gun sliding across the room. He saw red. With what he could only assume to be a knee between his shoulder blades and his wrists yanked back he had little leverage.

"I hope you have a good grip, Sweetheart, cause if I get out of this you're dead," his threat was delivered through gritted teeth as he assessed his options and conserved his energy. Aside from her jumping them here he had thought she wasn't stupid.

"Relax, Smooth Operator, I'm not after you. You're a means to an end. And if you help me you and your brother will be-"

Her last words were cut off with a thud and she hit the floor next to Dean. He rolled to the right and looked up to see Bobby with his shotgun. Dean relaxed, letting his head hit the floor. "Fine timing you've got there. Sam?"

"He's fine. Let's get her up." Dean closed his eyes and nodded. Resisting the urge to gank her right there. She said they weren't the ones she was after. Suddenly he had a whole new boat load of questions.

She felt the stinging in the back of her head before she even opened her eyes.

 _Shit._

She slowly lifted her head, tugging her hands lightly. They didn't budge from her back. Her ankles were bound to the metal chair she was sitting in. Her mind was still foggy, but it seemed to her she made a mistake. She looked around the dim room as the haze cleared. It looked like a dingy jail cell.

Then there was a metallic clang and footsteps coming closer. She dropped her chin to her chest as the door to the cell opened.

"Don't bother. We saw you on the camera. Rise and shine, Laura Croft. You've got some splainin' to do," Dean's voice was confident, almost arrogant. She lifted her head with a smirk on her lips.

"Seems I may have underestimated you meat heads. My mistake. How's your brother? He's my favorite," she had raised her gaze to meet his. Gauging how much trouble she was in by his response.

"Oh, he's just fine. Takes more than a hit from a girl to knock him down."

"Looked to me like he fell pretty hard."

Dean stood in front of her, over her, trying to intimidate. She never wavered from his gaze. He crouched down in front of her.

"You're in a world of trouble. We know you've been following us. We know you're not after us, said so yourself. We want to know why?"

She tipped her head to the side and sucked her top lip into her mouth. "Just wanted an autograph." Dean smirked.

"Woulda given you one last time we met. Why didn't you just ask." He stood, circling her chair from a distance. She shrugged a shoulder.

"I'm shy." Dean let out a throaty laugh as he circled behind her, trailing a finger up her arm and across her shoulder. He felt her shudder under his touch, and let up feeling a little dirty himself.

"You obviously know who we are. You have been following us. You didn't seem too surprised to run into us at that warehouse. Then you split without a word. Now you're here. I'm going to take a guess and say you've been tailing us since the night at the bar," she didn't move, didn't flinch. Her steely gaze never moved from the door. "What I want to know is why?"

He ended his question in front of her. His hands on the arms of the chair, leaning in her face. Her eyes fixed on his and for a second he saw a flash of fear before her cool demeanor took back control. He squinted an eye and tipped his head.

The battle raging in her mind was fierce. Talk or not? Act scared? Act tough? Either way she was bound to a chair, she had been stripped of her weapons, she could feel their absence. She couldn't see a way out. She inhaled to speak when the door opened again and in walked Sam.

Dean was visibly irritated. "I was almost there, Sam."

"Aw, jealous?" She regained a bit of confidence with the intrusion. She knew instinctively Sam was the more rational of the two, or so most thought. Sam was just more impressionable. Dean shot her an annoyed look.

"Hey, Sam. Sorry about that thing in the kitchen. Dean was much easier to take down without you there," her last words were spoken while watching Dean. She loved getting his goat.

Dean smirked while shaking his head, "ya know, you're getting pretty irritating, lady. I'd just as soon whack you and be done with it. My brother is a little nicer and more curious."

"Then let the grown ups talk, huh?" Sometimes she reminded him of Meg.

"Good luck, dude." With that Dean was gone, climbing the stairs to grab a brew and watch from the camera.

Sam pulled up a chair, settling in with the back between his legs. His face looked concerned as he stared at her. There was a gash above his right eye, clean but not taped. And he just stared. For some reason this unnerved her more than being grilled for info.

Sam could read people fairly easily. She was no different. When faced with threats and violence she was cool as a cucumber. When no one yelled or threatened her she became unraveled. Which only told Sam she wasn't used to kindness.

"What?" She was the first to break the silence. Sam knew then this was in the bag.

"Where are you from?" His question threw her off guard, visibly. But she quickly regained composure. She contemplated a snarky response, but decided it didn't really matter anyway. She had been caught, her mission already compromised.

"I don't even remember anymore," as the words fell from her lips her face softened. She looked smaller, frailer. Right then and there Sam felt the need to wrap her in his arms.

"What's your name?" She stared for a while, he could see the wheels in her head turning. He knew if he spoke before her he lost. He needed to let her fight this battle with herself.

"Doesn't matter. I am a ghost." She slowly shook her head, finally giving in to her defeat. She had been fighting a long time, her exhaustion was worn on her shoulders. "Why don't you just kill me and get it over with?"

Sam was slightly taken aback with her response. He narrowed his eyes a bit and tipped his head toward the camera, prepared to make an executive decision.

"You said you weren't a hunter. What were you doing at the warehouse? Killing werewolves?" He could see Dean's smirk. She looked slightly confused. She had stalked them, tried to capture them before Bobby returned. Obviously it had been a trap, they figured out she was tailing them. Now he was trying to get to know her.

She was sure once her motives were revealed they would kill her. She was also sure if she told them nothing they would keep her here, locked up. She was also sure she was ready to die. She was dead already.

"I have been following you-," her confession was cut off by the opening of the iron door. Sam sighed and put his forehead on the back of the chair. So close.

"Found your truck. Wasn't too hard, all Bobby has are junkers," Dean said sauntering in. Her face remained stoic. "Found your books, your computer, your weapons. We found everything. Including your little scrapbook," he finished by tossing a leather bound journal on the floor in front of her. She never glanced at it.

Sam reached down and picked it up, looking up at her before opening the cover. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, losing the battle. Sam flipped through a few pages with newspaper clippings and notes, looked at her, then Dean, then back at the book. His mouth hung open slightly and his brows furrowed.

Dean placed his hands on the arms of her chair again and leaned into her space. His signature move, apparently. His eyes were angry and his pretty mouth was twisted into an ugly scowl.

"Why is that book filled with information about our father?" Cutting straight to the chase. Dean was beyond angry at this point. Shown up by a girl. Turns out a girl that was following their dad.

She tipped her chin in the air and set her jaw, glaring right back in his face. Dean's vision got fuzzy, he snapped. Straightening up he swung at her. His open palm connecting with her cheek, snapping her head sideways. Sam dropped the book and flew out of his chair.

"Woah! Hey, okay, Dean. Take it easy," Sam said stepping between the girl and his brother, he grabbed dean's shoulders and started urging him back. Bobby opened the door, saw Sam had it and waited. Dean stood firm, jaw set, glaring at her.

"Why not take a break, man" Sam suggested, pushing Dean a little more firmly. The older Winchester started to move back, then stopped.

"She was after Dad, Sam!"

"I see that, or at least that's what it looks like. Let me talk to her." Dean huffed at Sam's patience. Then turned on his heel and stormed out, before he lost control again. Bobby clapped a hand on his shoulder and locked eyes with Sam. He nodded he was okay.

Sam turned back to her, one hand on his hip the other rubbing his chin. She was looking at him now, a few strands of hair stuck across her face. One of them stuck in the small trail of blood at the corner of her mouth.

"Touchy about your old man. They have a special relationship or something?" Her defenses were back up. Sam sighed, he was sure he had it. He could picture Bobby holding Dean back from storming downstairs.

"You like to push buttons. It's only going to dig you deeper here. I'm willing to listen to what you have to say," Sam's voice was calm and even. The look on her face told him it threw her off again. She squinted at him a bit, gauging his aura. He settled back into the chair.

"Do you mind?" She asked tossing her head as if trying to move the hair from her eyes. Sam reached up then hesitated, raising his eyebrows at her. Making sure she wasn't going to bite him. She held still as he tucked her loose strands behind her ear. She slipped her tongue out to swipe at the now drying blood, drawing his attention back to it.

"Sorry about Dean. He just wants answers. We all do. He's just not as patient when it comes to family." She looked skeptical. Then her eyes fell on the book on the floor. Sam followed her gaze and leaned down to pick it up. She cursed herself.

"We have a pretty close family," he mentioned flipping through the pages. Most of the articles were about the same thing, which concerned him. First, though, he wanted more info about his father.

"Must be nice," the words were spat under her breath, but Sam caught them. He closed the book on his finger to mark his place and crossed his arms over the back of the chair.

"You don't have any family?" He didn't need her to answer her silence and moist eyes said it all. She looked away from him to the floor, angry at the tears she was losing control of. She pulled helplessly at the ropes on her wrists, her arms were starting to go numb. Her frustration with not being able to hide from him made it worse.

The dam was breaking. She was getting weaker. Fat, hot tears began to roll down her cheeks. At least she wasn't sobbing. He couldn't stop the waterworks but she held her gasp at bay. Her mission really was over. Her cover blown.

She stared at the face across from her. Sam actually looked concerned. She wished he'd just leave. Or kill her, get it over with.

Sam was concerned, she looked to be in agony. He had no idea what to think. All he knew was if he left it would be over. He had a feeling if he didn't press now they'd never hear another word from her mouth.

"What happened to your family?" His voice was soft and low. Her head fell and her shoulders shook a few times. Then she sucked in a deep breath, sniffed, and looked him right in the eye.

"Your _father_ killed them."


End file.
